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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964320">and i can go anywhere i want (anywhere i want, just not home)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquams/pseuds/tamquams'>tamquams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Late Night Drives, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Pre-Relationship, Ronan Compliant Language, adam driving the bmw owo, arguments and banter and the rare sharing of feelings owo, boy i sure do hope this is canon compliant!, but no actual references to taylor swift are present, inspired by exactly one line in a taylor swift song, takes place vaguely during tdt, there's no onscreen drinking but ronan is drunk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:21:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquams/pseuds/tamquams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He indulged all of Ronan’s requests, actually, until they finally pulled off the highway and the headlights of the Beemer illuminated the faded, peeling sign that proclaimed they were <i>NOW ENTERING SINGER’S FALLS.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and i can go anywhere i want (anywhere i want, just not home)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>howdy! i don't even know how i feel about this but i am posting it anyway because that's who i am as a person! i hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan didn’t realize what a bad decision he had made until Adam was opening the door.</p><p>The bad decision wasn’t Adam himself — Adam Parrish was many, many things, but he could never be described as a <i>mistake</i>. The mistake was Ronan — Ronan Lynch was many, many things, but most of all, he was a <i>mistake</i> — and the state in which he arrived on Adam’s doorstep. Drunk off his ass, nose and lip and knuckles bloody, nearly falling over in the doorway as Adam looked him up and down emotionlessly.</p><p>“Lynch,” Adam said when he was done surveying the damage. “You’re in fine form tonight.” He sounded unamused, and Ronan thought he was going to be sent away, but then Adam uncrossed his arms and stepped back to let him through the door. Ronan stumbled over the threshold and immediately threw himself down on the floor.</p><p>Ronan’s tailbone throbbed where it made contact with the unforgiving wooden panelling of the floor, but he didn’t bother complaining; it served to distract him from the pain in his face and hands for a second. He waited for Adam to ask why he was there, but the question never came. When Ronan pushed himself up on his elbows, his eyes landed on Adam, already back at his desk, bent over a book and dead to the world around him.</p><p>“Seriously?” Ronan slurred, and Adam turned to glare at him. “It’s summer break. The fuck could you possibly be reading right now?”</p><p>Adam’s voice could cut steel. “It’s called a summer reading list, Lynch. Although I don’t know why I’d expect <i>you</i> to be familiar with the concept.” Ah, there it was: the anger. It was never that difficult to find — often enough, Ronan found himself running into it completely by mistake — but it was reliable, in a strange, messed up sort of way. There weren’t many things Ronan could count on in his life, but there was always arguing with Adam. He felt heat rising in his chest to meet the ice in Adam’s tone.</p><p>“Some of us have <i>lives</i>, Parrish,” Ronan drawled. “There’ll be time for all that nerd shit later. Try to live a little.” He could tell by Adam’s pained intake of breath that he had hit a sore spot; the desk chair groaned as Adam shoved it backward so he could stand up. <i>Bam</i>, Ronan thought. <i>Kill shot</i>.</p><p>“<i>Will there be time for that</i>, Lynch?” Adam demanded, pressing his palms flat against the surface of his makeshift desk. “Maybe for assholes like you who don’t have to do fuck-all just to survive, but I actually work for a living and I have been <i>killing myself</i> at school for <i>years</i> just on the off chance that I will actually—” Uncharacteristically, his voice came dangerously close to cracking; he took a deep breath and shook his head. “<i>Living a little</i>, is that what you were doing that got you so fucked up tonight? Is that what brought you here? Is this your so-called <i>life</i>?”</p><p>In direct contrast with Adam’s ferocity, Ronan was calm when he spoke. “Maybe it is,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe it’s just booze and fights and racing. Why do you care?”</p><p>Adam’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, but where all that air was going, who knew — his breaths were steady and controlled. “I—” He snapped his mouth shut with a <i>click</i>, cutting off his own sentence, and Ronan had never wanted to hear something more. When Adam spoke again, his voice was lower, defeated, and clearly untruthful. “I don’t.”</p><p>It shouldn’t have made Ronan feel smug, but it undeniably <i>did</i>. He felt like he had won an argument, and the only downside was that it came at Adam’s expense. Not that that wasn’t a price Ronan was willing to pay; it just sometimes left a bitter taste in his mouth if he thought about it too much. “Sure,” Ronan said easily, pushing himself up till he was standing again. He swayed slightly on his feet. “I”m getting out of here.”</p><p>“What?” Adam snapped, turning to look at him again. “The fuck are you talking about?”</p><p>Ronan rolled his eyes and yanked the door wide open. “You’re too pissy. I don’t wanna be here if you’re gonna be like this.” He stepped over the threshold, but he wasn’t even at the steps yet before Adam’s hand was gripping his bicep.</p><p>“You’re not going anywhere,” said Adam gruffly. “You’re too drunk to drive. Like hell am I gonna let you loose like this.”</p><p>Ronan tried to shake Adam off, but his grip was unrelenting. “Well, I’m sure as hell not staying here,” he slurred. He stepped down and immediately felt his body falling forward, but Adam yanked him back, preventing him from stumbling down the stairs. “Get <i>off</i>, Parrish.”</p><p>Adam laughed unkindly. “Oh, and let you break your neck going down the stairs? I don’t think so.” He loosened his hold on Ronan’s arm just enough for Ronan to descend the stairs one step ahead of him, but when they reached the bottom, he didn’t let go; instead, he held out his other hand. “Your keys,” he said firmly. “Hand ‘em over.”</p><p>For a moment, Ronan was speechless. He could only scoff and blink incredulously, his intoxicated mind reeling. What was <i>happening</i>? “Why?” he asked after several seconds, his brows furrowed.</p><p>Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna make you stay here,” he said, clearly exasperated. “But if you wanna leave, the only way I’ll let you is if I’m behind the wheel.”</p><p>Ronan’s breath caught in his throat. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, but that didn’t work; it only served to make him dizzier. “You don’t have time to babysit me,” he grumbled.</p><p>His face expressionless, Adam looked down and, without warning, stuck his free hand in Ronan’s front pocket. He had freed the keyring and shoved it in his own back pocket before Ronan could even register what was happening, and by the time his brain was online again, it was much too late — there was no way to get the keys back from Adam without giving himself away. “Maybe not,” Adam said, finally releasing his grasp on Ronan’s bicep. “But I don’t have time to mourn you, either, so come on.” Without another word, he turned and headed for the Beemer where it was parked haphazardly across three spaces a few yards away.</p><p>Adam didn’t unlock the BMW until he was at the driver’s side door, and they slid into the vehicle in tandem, Ronan’s movements albeit far less graceful. They sat in uneasy for silence for several minutes, Adam glaring at Ronan until Ronan buckled his seatbelt, and then Adam asked flatly, “Where to? Monmouth?”</p><p>The words left Ronan’s mouth before he could think to stop them. “Can we just drive around for a while?”</p><p>For a second, he was sure Adam would say no, but then a look of resignation crossed Adam’s face. “Sure,” he said, uncharacteristically soft, before clearing his throat. He added an almost-convincingly-detached “Whatever,” and then turned the BMW on and put it in drive. He had barely pulled out of the lot, though, before Roan was mumbling directions at him.</p><p>“Turn left up here,” said Ronan, pointing through the windshield toward the upcoming intersection. Adam flicked the blinker down responsibly and came to a full stop at the stop sign, much to Ronan’s aggravation. “Christ, Parrish, it’s like two in the morning and there isn’t another person on the road for miles. Run the damn stop sign, for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>Adam took a long, deep breath but said nothing, just turned where he had been told and continued to drive in silence. The car was quiet except for Ronan telling him where to turn and when to merge onto the highway, and he kept his eyes unwavering on the road. Ronan, still drunk and thirty different types of messed up, took the opportunity to stare at Adam and the lines and angles of his face. The slope of his nose, the rise and fall of his cheekbones; Ronan catalogued it all, memorized how it looked lit up in the orange-yellow glow of street lamps and the red and green gleam of traffic lights. Adam almost surely knew Ronan was staring, but for some reason, he allowed it.</p><p>He indulged all of Ronan’s requests, actually, until they finally pulled off the highway and the headlights of the Beemer illuminated the faded, peeling sign that proclaimed they were <i>NOW ENTERING SINGER’S FALLS.</i> As soon as his eyes took in the words, Adam was shifting gears, brakes squealing as he pulled the BMW onto the shoulder and turned it off. They both sat quietly for a second, Adam breathing hard, and then he undid his seatbelt and turned to Ronan with a furious glint in his eye.</p><p>“What the <i>fuck</i>, Ronan?” he spat, smacking his hand against the steering wheel. He was positively livid; Ronan’s anger was draining completely. “Are you kidding me? How stupid do you think I am?” Ronan opened his mouth to answer, but Adam continued, “I swear to God, if you make some cute little sarcastic remark right now, I’m gonna lose my entire fucking mind.” Ronan’s ears burned, but not at the admonishment; he was, strangely, endeared by the amount of times he had heard Adam say <i>fuck</i> so far that night. The more he tried to push the thought away, though, the more adamant it was about staying.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Ronan said instead, so softly that Adam might not have heard him — but one glance at Adam’s face said that he did. He seemed caught off guard by the apology, which was fair; Ronan Lynch did not say that he was sorry all that often. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, louder, turning toward the dash. “I shouldn’t have…” He couldn’t complete the statement, because there were too many possible endings. <i>I shouldn’t have gone to your apartment tonight. I shouldn’t have asked you to go for a drive. I shouldn’t have brought us here. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have</i>.”</p><p>And then Adam said the one thing that was more surprising than Ronan’s apology: “It’s okay.” He slumped back in his seat and leaned his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. “I mean, it was shitty, but it’s okay. It’s your gas money. I don’t care.” The Beemer didn’t actually need gas, but there was no point in Ronan saying so; it would only serve to ignite Adam’s anger once more, and for once in his life, Ronan didn’t want it.</p><p>“You know, I,” Ronan tried, but he immediately choked on his words. A voice in the back of his mind asked who he was to talk to Adam about the shitty cards life had dealt him, but he silenced it and went on. “I can go anywhere I want in the entire world. I could get on a plane and leave the country tonight, if I wanted.” He swallowed thickly and then sighed, staring pointedly through the windshield at the dark roadside. “But I can’t go the one place I actually want to go. I can’t go home.”</p><p>Adam reached up and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes harshly. “Home,” he repeated, his voice almost cracking. “I can’t, either.”</p><p>“Do you want to go home?” asked Ronan slowly.</p><p>Adam exhaled, his eyelids fluttering open. He glared at the ceiling, his fingers tapping restlessly against the bottom of the steering wheel. “Yes. No. Maybe.” He shook his head slightly, his hair flopping against his temples where he had let it grow out longer than usual. “I wish I had a home to begin with.”</p><p>Fair enough. Ronan cringed as, unbidden, a memory of police sirens and bloody knuckles and Adam on his hands and knees came back to him. The wave of guilt made him nauseous; it was <i>his fault</i> that Adam couldn’t return home. “I’m so—”</p><p>But somehow, Adam had been expecting it. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice ragged. He didn’t seem angry anymore, he just seemed tired. Ronan couldn’t decide if he wanted to push or pull. “There’s nothing to apologize for, so don’t even start.”</p><p>Ronan considered that. He turned to look at Adam again, just to find that Adam was turned in his seat, already looking at him. “We are some miserably fucked up bastards,” sighed Ronan, “aren’t we, Parrish?”</p><p>Adam’s laugh was dark but not necessarily unkind. “We really are,” he murmured, shaking his head. He turned so he was facing the road and re-buckled his seatbelt. After a dangerous and most-likely-illegal U-turn, he got on the highway again, and offered up a second rare truth. “I wish I could have taken you home,” he admitted quietly.</p><p>Something fragile in Ronan’s heart burst. “Me, too,” he said, and then more words poured out. “Can I stay at your place tonight? I’ve been having, um, a lot of wasp dreams lately.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the reason that Ronan wanted to stay at St. Agnes, either. He couldn’t give Adam that truth, though, so he would have to settle for this.</p><p>Adam flicked the turn signal in preparation of switching lanes. His face did something complicated, but the expression was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual emotionless façade. “Of course,” he said, his tone unreadable. He glanced at the side mirrors and then added, “As long as you let me do my reading.”</p><p>Ronan pressed the button to roll down his window and laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Okay,” he said, leaning his head out the open window. The roar of wind swallowed his words. “It’s a deal.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>well, i hope you liked it! i should have a couple more things posted shortly because i'm almost done with a few things i really like so that's exciting! as always, you are free to come bother me on tumblr, i'm @wespers and i am perpetually too lazy to actually link my blog here but i promise i'm nice and even sometimes funny! i hope you're all doing well and staying safe, sending you all love! p.s. title comes from my tears ricochet by taylor swift, which is more of a declan song than a pynch song in my opinion but this one line screamed to be written about! anyway bye!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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